


candyman

by munstah



Category: Hänsel und Gretel | Hansel and Gretel (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Drug Abuse, F/M, Food Kink, Grooming, Gun Violence, Hannah is 13, Heks is 46, New York -1980s, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2020-05-20 07:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/munstah/pseuds/munstah
Summary: TAGS WILL BE ADDED AS STORY PROGRESSES.Twins Hannah and Greg are abandoned by their cowardly father and heartless stepmother.That is, until they are taken in by a kind man who lives above a candy shop.





	1. !!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been bugging me for the past couple of days so I’m just shooting it out now. There will be short chapters so faster updates.
> 
> Please mind the tags, which will be updated with each chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * (02/20/20) Minor detail/grammar/etc. changes. May or may not require reread.  
> * (05/19/20) Minor grammar changes. Does not require reread.

Sleep was considered a luxury in their neighborhood. If they were able to drown out the police sirens and gunfire, shrug at the creepy crawlies scratching their skin, and ignore the fact that their parents were shooting up in the next room, they considered themselves lucky.

 

Their less than five hundred square foot tenement house granted only their parents a bedroom while the twins shared the pull-out sofa in the den. Nights consisted of a moth-devoured comforter set, a torn and stained mattress, and two exhausted, neglected, detached, temperamental children with identical dark hair and eyes.

 

Starving was about to be added to the list.

 

Had their father bought half as much food as he did drugs, they could eat comfortably for two weeks, maybe three. But he poured nearly every penny from his job – what did he do again? telemarketing? dishwashing? – into daily fixes for him and his wife. Not into the groceries, the water and electricity bills, the rent, or the school supplies.

 

Evidently, it didn't bother him that his children ate crumbs for all three meals and owned two sets of clothes and slept on a bedbug-infested sofa, all while drowning in a literal shithole.

 

Hannah swatted at her calf when she felt the unmistakable feeling of being bit. She rolled onto her side as her brother snored obnoxiously to her left. "Bastard," she grumbled.

 

She rose to her feet and made a beeline for the bathroom across the hallway, past her parents' bedroom. Having expected them to be unconscious from their latest fix, Hannah was shocked to hear noises emitting through the open door. Curiosity got the best of her, and she peeked inside.

 

The sight before her was jarring, to say the least. Her parents, clearly naked in the light leaking from the window, were tangled in the sheets and groaning like a pair of wild animals. Their movements became erratic until her father roared, and her stepmother screeched, and they collapsed onto the bed.

 

Hannah tore her eyes away from the scene and scurried back to the sofa. "Greg! Greg! Wake up! I have something to tell you," she hissed in his ear and shook his scrawny shoulder for good measure.

 

He whined, "Brgh, what time is it?"

 

"Never mind that! Guess what—" Hannah paused. "Wait, listen!"

 

"What?"

 

"Shh!"

 

Unlike her newly awakened sibling, Hannah was able to hear their parents' muffled voices in the adjacent room. They didn't sound happy with one another – especially their stepmother, whose shrill voice carried the most:

 

"… and we won't have any money left by then! We can barely get enough with what we have now."

 

Their father growled, "Well, what do you want me to do about it? I'm the only one who works. You don't do anything except lay around the house. The kids still have school until May."

 

"'The kids'," she scoffed. "Always 'the kids' with you. 'The kids' are hungry. 'The kids' are cold. 'The kids' are tired. I'm sick of hearing about those goddamn brats!"

 

There was a pause.

 

"Let's ditch them."

 

A slap resonated against the walls. "How high are you, bitch?"

 

"No higher than you," their stepmother barked.

 

"Then what the fuck is wrong with you?"

 

"You know as well as I do that we'll starve right here in this room if we keep wasting your hard-earned money on them. Or we'll get kicked out of here first, and then starve on the streets!"

 

"What's your big plan then? We can't just leave them here. We don't have anywhere else to go just yet."

 

"Easy. We'll leave them in the middle of nowhere. Right here in the city. Maybe an old park or something like that, where they won't know the way back."

 

"You need to lay off the smack, lady. 'Cause your brain's turning to shit."

 

"You have a better solution?"

 

Silence.

 

Their stepmother sounded triumphant as she spoke, "Good. Fine. First thing tomorrow morning then. If it makes you feel better, we'll give them each a snack, so they don't suffer right away."

 

Her husband mumbled something along the lines of, "... if the beggars don't tear them to shreds" before they seemed to settle into sleep.

 

Hannah, wide-eyed, turned to Greg. She couldn't believe that their parents were going to resort to abandoning their children to avoid starvation. She thought that they had a least a little more fight in them, but apparently overestimated them. "Did you hear that?" she asked.

 

"What? That they're gonna throw us out like it's trash day?" Greg frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He dropped against the pillows and turned his back to her. "No. I didn't hear that."

 

"Stop the dramatics, Gregor—"

 

"I told you not to call me 'Gregor'!"

 

Hannah fought the urge to hit him and instead rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up, will you? This is serious."

 

Despite the darkness blanketing the apartment, she could make out her brother's frame beginning to tremble. Clumsily hidden sniffles were heard beneath his hands. "I know it's serious, dick," he whimpered.

 

Greg cried often enough that she thought she would be used to it by now, but watching him crumple into a pathetic ball of emotions and sob into his pillow was heartbreaking every time.

 

It wasn't right for one twin to be upset while the other bared their teeth. And yet, this was how it usually was; Greg, the overly-sensitive brother, falling behind Hannah, the strong-willed sister, as she pushed forward.

 

"Don't worry, Greg. I'll figure something out," Hannah promised. She gently laid a hand on his head and surveyed the room for a solution. Zeroing in on a can of spray paint, discarded next to a side table, she was struck with a fantastic idea. She smiled.

 

_everything will work out_


	2. bad guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * (02/20/20) Minor detail/grammar/etc. changes. May or may not require reread.  
> * (05/19/20) Minor grammar changes. Does not require reread.

The next morning brought a Saturday chill that made Hannah's lips quiver. She didn't catch the time when their stepmother woke her and Greg up – calling them her favorite nickname, 'lazybones' – and told them that they were going to the playground.

 

Meanwhile, their father was cooking a single scrambled egg on the stovetop, appearing pointedly guilty. A piece of burnt toast and a glass of juice for his wife sat near his elbow.

 

"Aren't we too old for the park?" Greg said. His eyes were glassy and red from the previous night's sobbing session, although neither parent paid any mind.

 

"I'm with Greg. We're thirteen, you know. Not five," Hannah added with a raised brow.

 

Despite the dreadful situation, the twins allowed themselves a moment to enjoy their parents' exchange of alarmed expressions. 

 

_haha, bastards_

 

Their father gaped, "What kid doesn't like to go to the park?"

 

"Are you two that dull you don't even want to have fun when you're offered it?" their stepmother retorted. "Come on, get off your asses, and get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes."

 

While their parents locked themselves up in their bedroom for breakfast, Hannah and Greg slipped into their clothes. They both muttered about the lack of privacy.

 

Since neither twin had undergone puberty yet, there wasn't anything that they hadn't seen before. Save for a bit of hair in some sundry places. They were told that their biological mother had been a late bloomer. So, naturally, her children were to be the same. Still, they didn't like looking at the other in such a vulnerable state.

 

"Ten minutes until we're orphans," Greg sulked as he shrugged on his shirt, ruffling his hair in the process. 

 

His sister slung her backpack over one shoulder and gave him a half-hearted shove. "Shut up. I told you I'd figure something out. And I did. So stop worrying," said Hannah. Then she sauntered towards the can of spray paint on the floor. She shook it to make sure it wasn't empty and grinned.

 

"You did? What is it?"

 

"That's none of your business. I have it all handled." She snuck the can into her backpack for later use.

 

Greg scowled, "None of my—?"

 

Both their father and stepmother entered the room with their plates licked clean. Hannah sent her brother a glare that secretly hissed, "Stop talking!" and thanked God that he listened. The two siblings waited patiently while their parents deposited the dishes into the already-full sink.

 

Their stepmother clapped her hands together and smiled with pinched lips. "Well, let's go, everyone!" she chirped. She slapped a protein bar into Hannah and Greg's unsuspecting palms. Taking notice of their inquisitive faces, she clarified, "For the trip. But don't waste them." 

 

Seeing as the family of four lived in an infamously dangerous part of town, a casual stroll down the street was not a commodity. Drug deals, sex trafficking, and murders made up a majority of the numerous crimes committed on an hourly basis. Several missing person flyers were plastered on every other telephone pole. Stray dogs and cats were so detached that they would attack anything and anyone that crossed their path.

 

Hannah and Greg were lucky enough to have their father walk them to school each morning to keep them from being bombarded by panhandlers and prostitutes. 

 

However, today was different. 

 

They walked in a group along the sidewalks and across streets. The twins held hands and stuck to each other's sides like glue. They followed close behind their parents, but Hannah started to stop occasionally. 

 

Her pauses grew to be a habit, so much so that her father eventually commented, "Whatever you're doing, Hannah, cut it out."

 

"I'm not doing anything," she huffed. It was easy to say such a bold lie. Just as it was easy to slip the can of spray paint from her backpack and mark the sides of buildings and street signs and mailboxes. 

 

Only Greg saw but didn't say a word to their parents. He wasn't aware of her intentions, anyway.

 

At last, the family arrived at the playground, which was completely abandoned. Greg was the first to bound ahead and hop onto a seat on the swing set. Hannah took her time to approach the monkey bars. Rust was visible on the rungs that were closer to her reach.

 

Their father cleared his throat, "Now, kids, your mother is going to a job interview today, and I'm going to escort her there. We'll be gone for only a little while. Be good and wait for us right here. Understand?" It was a pitiful show of authority on his part. Both of his children knew, his wife knew, the entire world knew. 

 

But Hannah and Greg acted the role of angels who nodded their little heads and said, "Yes, father" in unison – instead of sneering, "She's not our mother."

 

Glaring daggers at their parents' receding backs, the two siblings decided to make the most of their predicament by enjoying the playground. Hannah dropped her backpack, climbed on top of the monkey bars, and hung by her knees, her long ponytails almost touching the grass. Greg pumped his legs back and forth until he managed great heights on the swing set.

 

"Tag, you're it!" she exclaimed as she pushed his shoulder and pranced onto the plastic castle structure. "Hey! I'll get you!" her brother laughed. He bounced off of the swing set and ran after her. The chase ended at the bottom of the curved slide, where the twins toppled over one another into a giggling heap.

 

They frolicked about the brightly colored equipment for so long that they didn't notice the sun setting beyond the horizon. The ball of fire lowered at a gradual pace, as did their spirits.

 

"What do we do now? It'll get dark soon."

 

"Exactly!"

 

"What do you mean 'exactly'?"

 

Hannah started to fish through her backpack, but was interrupted by Greg. "Oh, stop it with the spray paint, will you?" he groaned.

 

She yanked a flashlight into view of her brother and waved it in front of his nose. "The spray paint is what we'll be able to see with this!" she snapped.

 

"So, what?"

 

"So, ass-face, we can retrace our steps with the marks I sprayed the whole way here with the flashlight!" she said, exasperated, as though it was visible to everyone except him. 

 

She relished in how her brother's face brightened at her words. Greg grabbed her elbow and pulled her alongside him. "Well, come on! Let's go, ass-face!"


	3. xanny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * (02/20/20) Minor detail/grammar/etc. changes. May or may not require reread.  
> * (05/19/20) Minor grammar changes. Does not require reread.

It was dawn once Hannah and Greg returned to their tenement house. The two of them called for their parents and pounded tight fists against the front door until they woke up the entire neighborhood, save for the pigeons that lined the rooftops.

 

"Shut up, will yah?" yelled a particularly irritated tenant.

 

Another snarled, "It's not even six o'clock!"

 

As expected, the twins were not greeted by a warm welcome from their stepmother. Her face shriveled as her fingers clenched around the doorknob. She squawked, "You goddamn brats!"

 

"Missed you too," Hannah murmured and pushed past the woman, with Greg in tow.

 

"Where were you?" their stepmother prodded. "When we got back to the park, you were nowhere in sight. We thought you didn't want to come home. We thought you ran away and left your poor father and me to—"

 

"Oh, Hannah! Greg!" Their father, who was high as a kite, burst from the bathroom and crushed his children in a bear hug, showering them in teary-eyed kisses and noogies.

 

_dickless coward_

 

The twins, on the other hand, each stood limp within the embrace. Though they were glad to have made it back home in one piece, they – or at least Hannah – couldn't help but feel as though they would have been better off on their own, rather than continue living with a milksop father and cruel stepmother.

 

-

 

It wasn't long before their stepmother made a second attempt at abandoning the children against her husband's wishes. The only minor changes in her plan were to execute it without his knowledge and luring Hannah and Greg to a different playground, situated on the other side of the city.

 

Like before, a protein bar sat snug in each of the siblings' pockets 'for the trip.'

 

During their significantly longer walk, Hannah brandished her handy dandy can of spray paint. She passed by a fire hydrant, pushed the valve of the can, and grimaced when nothing emitted from the opening, except for a hilarious spitting noise.

 

She stopped and shook the can so violently she nearly popped herself in the chin. Her stepmother and brother were a ways ahead of her. She tried in vain to mark the fire hydrant but to no avail. The damned thing was empty.

 

"Shit," she growled.

 

After a few more shakes, her stepmother became aware of Hannah's absence. "Hannah? Hannah, Jesus Christ, where did you go?" she huffed and looked wildly about for her 'Ray of Sunshine' tee shirt and ponytails. She turned in the direction that they had come from and spotted just that a block away.

 

"Hannah!" The older woman flew to her and took her wrist in a vein-popping grip. "What do you think you're doing, lazybones? Straggling behind? You know I don't like stragglers. Come on, and get– What's this?"

 

The can of spray paint was ripped from Hannah's hands. She yelped, "Hey, that's mine!"

 

"Spray paint? What are you doing with spray paint? You little brat, I bet you're the one who's been drawing all those cocks on the stop signs. Let's go," her stepmother said. She pitched the can far into an adjacent alleyway, never to be seen or used again.

 

The playground was not as big as the previous one, but it was visually prettier; the equipment was newer; the grass was greener. The trio resembled sullen blotches of ink on a cheery piece of construction paper.

 

"This isn't the same one we went to last time," Greg observed, noting the lack of swing sets and seesaws. Instead, a merry-go-round encompassed a great deal of the area. There were also three spring riders – a wolf, a cat, and a pigeon – and a jungle gym.

 

"It's much better than the other one," their stepmother sniffed.

 

Hannah inched forward and poked at the ladder of the slide. Her stomach sank well below her abdomen when it swayed easily at her touch. One more poke and the entire structure would inevitably collapse. "I disagree," she frowned.

 

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, young lady."

 

_go ahead, dumb cunt_

 

It was clear that their stepmother was eager to leave; she was practically tripping over her own shoelaces as she slithered backward, and her hands fumbled more than usual. "Alright, well, I have to go to work, you two. Remember to wait right here until your father and I come back. Okay?" she said.

 

"Okay," Hannah and Greg echoed.

 

When the wicked woman was out of earshot, the twins plopped themselves down on the edge of the sandbox. Neither of them braved to move towards the steep metal slide or square-shaped sandbox, too exhausted to frolic in ignorance.

 

Instead, they gobbled up their snacks; Hannah even shared her extra protein bar from when they were first abandoned with her brother, who seemed to need it more than her.

 

Hiccups jolted from Greg's lips. He was crying and not doing a very good job at hiding it. "Wh– wh– what're we gonna duh– do?" he whined.

 

"I'll tell you what we're gonna do," Hannah said, taking Greg's forearm and dragging him with her as she stood. "We're going to find our way back. One way or another."

 

"You– you're not guh– gonna start singin', are you?" he giggled through his tears. 

 

She gave him a soft shove, smiling, "Screw you, dickweed."


	4. you should see me in a crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * (02/20/20) Minor detail/grammar/etc. changes. May or may not require reread.  
> * (05/19/20) Minor grammar changes. Does not require reread.

"What time is it?"

 

"Has to be getting close to seven now. The sun's going to set. See?" Hannah said, pointing at the pinkening sky in the distance.

 

She shimmied past a fruit stand on the pavement. A quick glance at the proprietor told her that a quick getaway with an apple was not likely. Her foot plunked against a lone, half-devoured orange, sending it spiraling into an open sewer grate. 

 

Other than a few dawdlers and cars rumbling through intersections, the streets were growing quieter with life. Soon, nighttime would plunge them into darkness, and Hannah and Greg would be forced to face even more obstacles – ones that could hide and attack from behind and subdue with ease.

 

The twins had been wandering about the city for roughly four hours. During that time, they had already encountered an angry hoard of homeless veterans, a drunken couple leaving a BDSM club, two representatives for the Church of the Blessed Sacrament, and a police officer. They had been lucky to escape the last threat with their skin safely intact.

 

Greg moaned, "I still don't know why we had to run from that cop. He was just trying to help. He could have brought us home."

 

"And that's why I get us out of all the messes you make."

 

He stopped dead in his tracks and shoved at her arm, scowling, "This isn't my fault, Hannah!" 

 

"God, I was only—"

 

"If anything, it's your fault!" he barked. "You're the one who always talks back. You go out of your way to make things harder than it should be. And you never do what you're told. And you… you just love being difficult! It's like you can't function unless you're being a raging bitch!"

 

Hannah made of a show of throwing her hands high in the air. She hated it when he couldn't take her jokes, especially one that was so blatant. But it was her responsibility to talk her brother off the ledge before he said or did something they would come to regret. She snapped, "For Christ's sake, Gregor, I was kidding! Of course, it's not your fault, and it's not mine either. I know you're smarter than that."

 

When Greg didn't reply, she slung her elbow around his neck and continued down the street. "If we let that cop know anything, he would have Father sitting in the nearest jail cell for child abandonment. And we don't want that, right?" she asked.

 

He wiped his eyes and shook his head.

 

"Right. We'll be fine on our own. We always have been."

 

"Right."

 

-

 

Since the twins neglected to keep track of the passing time, they found themselves on a dimly-lit subsidiary street. It was the equivalent to a ghost town; neither a human nor animal soul appeared to occupy it. It was abandoned.

 

_like us_

 

They drifted by the shattered entryway of an auto parts store, and the stained awning of a restaurant and deli. None of the buildings looked inviting or safe. 

 

_we're going to have to pick somewhere. unless you're okay with sleeping in the wide open, where anyone or anything can snatch you up_

 

The pair slowed in front of a peculiar establishment. Even with the little light they had, they saw that the brick siding was painted to mimic a decorated gingerbread house. Plumes of white icing edged the windowsills, globs of blue and green M&M's dotted the door, and lines of red licorice strips dangled from the gutter.

 

'Grimm's Candy Shoppe,' the sign read.

 

Hannah tried the handle on the front door and upon finding it locked, turned to Greg for approval, but was met with a skeptical leer. She sighed, "What now, shithead?"

 

"Just because it looks like Willy Wonka's wet dream outside, doesn't mean it's not all sunshine and rainbows inside."

 

"We don't have a choice, Greg. Come on, help me find a way in," she said, leaving no room for argument. She inched around to the back of the shop. To her dismay, the door to the rear entrance was locked as well. 

 

"Hey, buttwipe, over here," Greg grumbled to her left. He crouched low on the ground and wiggled the exposed latch of the small window. Once there was a wide enough opening, he slid his lower half through. "If I die in here, you're next," he vowed. Then he disappeared.

 

Hannah rolled her eyes and followed. She stumbled on the landing, thanks to a tower of cardboard boxes blocking her path. As she fell, she grabbed for a box and yelled, "Shit!" before toppling down.

 

Several more boxes dropped alongside her while packing peanuts flew and plummeted in a mock snowfall. 

 

Greg sneered, "Nice going, sis'."

 

"Eat shit."

 

"You're the one who ate shit."

 

She pushed herself off of the concrete floor and took a look around the room. The only light source was a dangling bulb that apparently had been yanked out. A door to their left led upstairs. Assuming from all of the discarded bubblegum machines and enormous rolls of cellophane, they were in the basement of the shop.

 

Greg was already exploring, inspecting the boxes his sister had knocked over. He continued on to a pile of wooden crates, which were filled with jelly beans and taffy. "Hey, do you think these're still good to eat?" he asked.

 

"Maybe. Try it and find out."

 

Her brother unwrapped a piece of yellow taffy and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it for a few seconds, scrunched his brows in concentration, and said, "Not bad."

 

At that, she helped herself to a bag of colorful jelly beans, and then some taffy, and then a handful of Skittles, and then a couple of Smarties. She couldn't remember the last time she ate so many sweets – definitely not her birthday. Definitely not Halloween when she was six years old. She was in heaven.

 

Greg managed to empty the first box he found. He scrounged for another and was in luck. This time, he gorged himself on chocolate chips, Butterfingers, and truffles.

 

Sucking on a blueberry Jolly Rancher, Hannah ran a hand across a work table crowded in ancient documents, probably detailing shipments and other uninteresting things. She wondered how long it had been since the shop closed, since a person was in here, like them.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a crash from the floor above them. The sound of racing footsteps jarred her enough to push Greg into a corner. She squeezed herself against a broken milk processor and hissed, "Don't cry!"

 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

 

"Who's down there?" a man boomed from behind the door. "I know someone's here. I goddamn heard you all the way from the third floor."

 

The door swung open, and Hannah slapped a hand over Greg's mouth before he squeaked in terror. She felt a tear dribble onto her fingers as she fastened her brother's jaw shut. 

 

They both listened to the man descend the short flight of stairs and stop to examine the mess they had created. He chuckled, "Guess I have a couple'a rats to take care of."

 

Hannah gasped.

 

_now you've done it_

 

The man taunted, "I heard that, you li'l rodent. Come out, come out wherever you are."

 

The twins trembled in their skin, praying that they wouldn't be found and nearly wetting their underwear in the meantime. Their hearts were so close to each other that they could hear the single beat of their combined pulses.

 

They heard the man approach their hiding spot. All it took was one push on the milk processor – which rolled to the side – and they were caught. Hannah and Greg froze at the sight of the man looming above them.

 

"Gotcha."


	5. all the good girls go to hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * (05/19/20) Minor grammar changes. Does not require reread.

_oh, fuck_

 

The gun's muzzle was poised in front of their faces, held completely steady. It poked the tip of Hannah's nose as the man deadpanned, "You kids got about three seconds before I blow your brains out."

 

The twins exploded into their own spluttering tirades:

 

"Oh, please, Mister! Please don't kill us! We weren't gonna do anything. We swear. We were just gonna eat and go. Oh, my God – I don't wanna die!

 

"Jesus Christ, give us a break, Mister! We were hungry. And we didn't think anyone would be here. Just let us go, and we won't tell anyone. Honest, we won't!"

Arching a brow, the man lowered his gun and aimed for their full stomachs. He clicked the safety off with his thumb. "Didn't mommy ever tell you not to take things that don't belong to you?" he jeered. He was amused by their unified fear.

 

Hannah had no choice but to jump into action. She rushed forward, thus blocking her brother and placing herself in front of the imminent danger. 

 

At their close proximity, she was able to get a good look at the gunman. Bug-eyed. Patchy stubble. Receding brunet hair flecked with gray. Big nose. 

 

_one creepy motherfucker_

 

She challenged, "If you're going to shoot a couple of starving kids for eating some stale candy, do it already. But it'll cause a lot of trouble for you."

 

He was momentarily perplexed. "What d'you mean?"

 

"That's just two messes to clean up and two bodies to get rid of. Are we really worth all that, Mister?"

 

The man seemed to think her words over. "No, you're not," he conceded with a smile. He pocketed his gun into the waistband of his jeans and raised his hands as though signifying defeat. 

 

The brother and sister duo visibly relaxed. Hannah released a breath she didn't know she was holding, and Greg dragged a trembling hand down his face. 

 

They watched the man scratch his collarbone and ponder his next sentence, "Uh, I'm– I'm sorry, kids. It's just you never know who you can run into in a town like this. Thought you were robbers or somethin'. But no hard feelings, huh?"

 

One minute, he was literally seconds from shooting them in the face and the next, he was shooting the shit with them. It almost felt like whiplash.

 

"No hard feelings," they said in unison.

 

"Great." His smile grew wider. He took a few steps back, motioning for them to follow. He looked happy as they complied and moved from their half-assed hiding spot. "Name's Heks."

 

"I'm Hannah. And this is Grego—"

 

"Greg. Just Greg," her brother glared.

 

"Nice to meet you. Where you kids from?"

 

"Parkchester."

 

"Parkchester?" Heks echoed. "You're a long way from home, kids. Do your parents know you're here?"

 

Greg choked up at the mention of their parents, so Hannah explained for the both of them, "Our parents stranded us in a park a few miles North. We were trying to find our way back when we came across your shop."

 

"You mean they left you on purpose? Then why do you want to go back?"

 

"'Cause we... Uh—"

 

"We wanted—"

 

Hannah and Greg shared equally baffled expressions.

 

_you have to admit, he's gotta point_

 

"It sounds like your parents made a real effort to get rid of you. Like they don't want you around no more," Heks soothed, his voice thickening. "That doesn't sound like parents you want to go back to."

 

"But we don't have anyone. Or anywhere," Greg whimpered.

 

Heks gnawed at the inside of his cheek, deep in thought. Slowly, the smallest smirk crept onto his mouth. Then he slunk behind the siblings, placed his open palms against their shoulders, and nudged them towards the staircase. "Let's go upstairs and talk."

 

And so they did.

 

-

 

The kind man who lived above a candy shop brought Hannah and Greg to the second floor. His front door led to a short corridor that branched into a den, a dining room, and a bedroom, which was most likely his.

 

A beast of a German Shepard, laying on the welcome mat, lifted its head. At the sight of strangers, its chest rumbled with a growl. 

 

"Down, boy," Heks commanded. 

 

The dog whined and obeyed.

 

"This's Adolphe. He may look tough, but he's a big baby."

 

Telling from the lack of play toys and other signs of domestic life, Heks was without a partner and children. He didn't look like the type of man to have fatherly instincts – what with him brandishing a gun at two teenagers in the middle of the night – instead, he looked like the type to wander through life on his own.

 

_maybe we're that type too_

 

For a bachelor, his apartment was relatively clean. The carpets were dusty, but his belongings were organized. The windows were cracked and barred, but the air smelled like Lysol and previously-lit cigarettes. The doors were lined with all kinds of locks, but the television was functioning.

 

They were ushered to sit at the dining table. They could see the kitchen to the left. Wooden milk crates were scattered around the linoleum floor, and the appliances were filthy from use. 

 

Heks took notice of their wandering attention and scratched his reddened collarbone, apparently embarrassed. He chuckled, "Sorry about the mess. I didn't think I was gonna have company."

 

"Oh. It's fine," Greg reassured. He ran a hand down the back of Adolphe's head.

 

Hannah added, "It's better than our parents' place."

 

"Well, you two make yourselves comfortable while I start dinner. I hope you like sweets."

 

Their eyes glowed, and their smiles widened. They practically vibrated in their seats at the thought of an actual meal – and on top of that, one with candy. Even when their host put the television on, the twins couldn't focus on 'Night Court.'

 

They weren't waiting long before Heks emerged from the kitchen. Balancing several dishes, he made his way over to the table and plunked one after another in front of Hannah and Greg. "Ta-da!" he sang. "Bon appétit, kids."

 

Each plate was overflowing with sugar and chocolate and candied fruit. Bowls of vanilla ice cream covered in sprinkles. Cakes made of carrots, cheese, and coconut, heavily coated in icing. Nutty brownies and banana cream pies.

 

And candy. Lots and lots of candy.

 

Boxes upon boxes of Nerds and Dweebs. Bonbons lining Snowballs in a halo. Four helpings of Dina Sour Eggs. Gummy bears and worms alike. A few handfuls of PB Max, Crunch, and Baby Ruth bars. 

 

Hannah and Greg dug into their meal like wild animals. Manners forgotten, they fisted and shoveled strawberries dipped in fudge, pumpkin muffins, and Twinkies into their mouths. They hummed and groaned their satisfaction.

 

As Hannah heaped some more Reese's peanut butter cups past her waiting lips, she got the sense of being watched. She looked up and found Heks staring with a grin. She felt ill at that moment, but returned a smile to show her appreciation.

 

"I think it would be in everyone's best interests..." Heks broke through the din of the feast. "If you both stayed with me."

 

Greg dragged his tongue along a lollipop. "Huh?"

 

"At least until you find your footing and can support yourselves. I'd be more than happy to help in the meantime."

 

"You would do that? For us?" Hannah asked. Unapologetically, she sucked caramel off all ten fingers, unaware of her host's stiff intake of breath.

 

"Of course. You two can have my room. I can move Adolphe's crate to the den and take the couch – that's no problem. And I can cook, and you can do chores like sweeping and washing dishes. Money's no issue, so I can buy you things. For school or just because. We can all be one big, happy family. Would you like that?"

 

The twins exclaimed at the same time, "Yeah! Yeah!" 

 

Adolphe barked, as though in agreement.


	6. wish you were gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for my absence with this story! I hope I can make up for it with an extra-creepy chapter ;)
> 
> * (05/19/20) Minor grammar changes. Does not require reread.

Being in an actual bed was nice. Even though the pillows were stained with drool, and the ashtray on the bedside table left a stale smell, the twins enjoyed every second.

 

Heks had given them pajamas to wear for the time being and promised that they would soon go shopping for size-appropriate clothing. "You probably don't want to be walking around wearing my old band tees," he had joked.

 

He had been nice enough to let them finish the 'Night Court' marathon well past five o'clock. Hannah was sure that she had passed out on the La-Z-Boy and Greg on the floor – but they were moved to Heks' room at some point.

 

Hannah kicked her brother each time he rolled too close to her side. It was clear that he wasn't used to sleeping on a queen mattress. She had tried once to explain her spatial issues, but this didn't stop Greg from subconsciously trying to cuddle her.

 

Sunlight filtered into the room through the curtains. The digital clock read eleven twenty-three. To her surprise, Heks never came in to tell them to wake up.

 

She was the first to get off the bed when nature eventually called. As she sat up, she adjusted the tee-shirt, only to find that – despite her efforts – the sleeve slid down her shoulder. She rolled her eyes.

 

Their host's bathroom was more spacious than their parents', seeing that she didn't stub her toe at the bathtub's feet. Hannah was quick with her business. Another ashtray lay on the edge of the sink. An unopened box of tampons sat beside the trash can.

 

_i guess that's for a girlfriend_

 

She left the room before she thought about it too much. From the doorway, she saw Heks sprawled out on the couch, Adolphe curled at his feet. He was still in his pajamas with his eyes half-open, glazed over at the television. His left hand rested beneath the waistband of his boxers.

 

"Uh, morning," Hannah cleared her throat. She became hyperaware of her current state of dress. Suddenly feeling small, she wished she was wearing something other than panties and socks, but was grateful that the oversized tee-shirt reached her knees.

 

Heks yanked his hand out of his underwear and jumped to a sitting position alongside Adolphe. He grunted, "G'mornin', Hannah! You're up earlier than I was expecting."

 

The dog barked in greeting and wagged his tail, whining until Hannah scratched behind his ears.

 

"It's eleven-thirty," she paused. "You're not mad we slept in?"

 

"Why would I be mad? You're old enough to get up whenever you want," Heks said. He stood and shrugged on the bathrobe that was draped across the La-Z-Boy. "As long as you two are living under this roof, you're free to do what you please."

 

She began to gnaw at her thumb. "Oh, cool."

 

Hannah felt sort of guilty that she wasn't comfortable in his presence. The man was generously opening his home to a pair of abandoned ragamuffins. Still, her skin prickled with goosebumps at the thought of being alone with him.

 

"Well, I'll go get Greg..." As her teeth nicked a hangnail, she all but ran towards the bedroom.

 

Heks wound an arm around her shoulders, took her wrist in a wide palm, and pulled her fingers from her mouth. His touch made her ill again. He cooed, "No, no. Let him sleep. He's been through a lot. Come on, I'll make you breakfast. How's that sound?"

 

_that sounds good_

 

"That sounds good."

 

He smiled, "Good." He kept his hold on Hannah as he guided her into the kitchen. He finally released her so that she could sit down at the table. Then he busied himself with bouncing between the icebox, stovetop, and oven. "Sleep well?"

 

"Yeah, better than usual. Thanks," Hannah said. Her nipples brushed against the tee-shirt and puckered. Mortified, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

 

"I'm glad to hear that," Heks replied, simultaneously stirring a large bowl of batter. He hummed while he poured the mix onto a griddle into small circles, and waited for a minute before flipping the pancakes with a spatula.

 

"Want milk with your breakfast?" he said over his shoulder.

 

Hannah stood and approached the refrigerator, "Yeah, I'll get it—"

 

Just as she yanked the handle, Heks slammed the door shut. "No!" He took a moment to collect himself, ran a dirty hand through his hair. "What I mean is, you're a guest here. So I don't want you lifting a finger, understand?"

 

The small breeze, paired with his bulging and watery eyes, had Hannah shaking. She nodded wordlessly and returned to her seat.

 

Her meal consisting of pancakes sprinkled with powdered sugar, sliced apples, and nuts was a quiet one. Though the food was delicious, she made no indication that she was enjoying it. She sipped her milk between bites, having a staring contest with her plate.

 

"I scared you, didn't I?" Heks' voice was low from across the table. Hannah finally raised her eyes and noticed that he actually looked...

 

_embarrassed? guilty?_

 

She admitted, "Yes, you did."

 

"It was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

 

Hannah was gobsmacked, to say the least. She didn't think she had ever heard an adult apologize to her for something that they did. She was used to the half-assed sorries: "You're too short to ride, kid. Sorry," "Oh, I'm sorry, honey, that lady over there just bought the last pack of deodorant," "I'm sorry for spanking you, Hannah, but you were asking for it."

 

"It's okay." Not knowing what else to do, she forced a large piece of pancake into her mouth. She struggled to swallow under his gaze, so she gulped down some milk.

 

"Never say 'It's okay' to someone who wronged you. That lets them think it's okay to do it again," Heks said, stern but not harsh. It almost sounded like he was teaching her an important lesson. "You say, 'I forgive you.' But only if you mean it."

 

"I forgive you," she mimicked. 

 

The silence sucked up the conversation like a vacuum. Hannah mopped her pancakes through a pool of maple syrup and tried to ignore the way Heks looked at her. Her toes brushed against Adolphe's coat as he lay beneath the table.

 

_for fuck's sake, greg, wake up!_

 

After a while, she decided to address one of the elephants in the room, "Do you have a girlfriend, Heks?"

 

The question seemed to catch him off-guard. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and just laughed. "Nope. Haven't had one for some time. Why do you ask?" he smiled.

 

"Uh, I saw something in your bathroom." Her cheeks and forehead were surely on fire. She whispered, "For girls."

 

Heks grinned wolfishly, "You're gonna have to be more specific."

 

"Tuh– tamp... ons."

 

"Ah, those. Well, those did belong to an old girlfriend of mine. But she's long gone. It's a good thing I didn't throw them out, what with you living here now." He caught the wince that marred Hannah's face for a fraction of a second. Puzzled, he urged, "You do need them, right?"

 

"I haven't gotten my... you know... yet."

 

"Shit, really? Aren't you, like, fourteen or something?"

 

"...I'm thirteen."

 

"Shit. Well, there ain't nothing wrong with being a late bloomer."

 

Shifting in her chair, clearly uncomfortable, she began to chew on her thumb again. But Heks gently grabbed her hand and squeezed. The warmth of his skin was comforting, even when the callouses scratched her fingers.

 

She couldn't decipher the expression on the man's face. His eyes were heavily-lidded, as though he were tired, but there was also a sheen of electricity. His lips curled on one side in a nasty smirk. 

 

He looked hungry.

 

Hannah pulled her hand out of Heks' grip just as Greg materialized in the entryway. "Morning! Oo-ooh, pancakes, my favorite!"


End file.
